In the blistering heat of a New Mexico afternoon, a 1978 Chevy Silverado pulls into the bare parking lot of a bowling alley.  Out of the vehicle stumbles a gruff middle-aged man who stares in disappointment at the shabby facility, grumbles a curse, and reaches back in the vehicle for an old plastic bottle half-full of urine; he dumps it on the pavement before slamming the car door, taking a swig of McClure’s, and walking toward the alley.  This is “Bad” Blake – country star of yesteryear – and this is his gig for the night.

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